


He Met Her in the Garden

by leradny



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, I take many liberties with canon, Link's father, Rhoam is Complex But Ultimately Sympathetic, The Bottomless Swamp, Unreliable Narrator (sort of), Zelda's mother (who is also named Zelda), a lot of backstory here, the characters also take many liberties with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26297815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leradny/pseuds/leradny
Summary: Rhoam has been dead for much longer than he was alive, which is a great deal of time to think about where he might have gone wrong. And oh, there are so many times he went wrong.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	He Met Her in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> well this thing took. a lot.
> 
> i started it in march and being in quarantine now, i literally just sat myself down and said, 'no more, i will not have this thing eating up space on my harddrive, i will finish this and publish it and MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE.'
> 
> i like rhoam. i absolutely get why other people hate him so much, though. this is basically 10k words of me saying, 'BUT THAT LAST DIARY ENTRY' while researching archaic language and medieval horsemanship.

In Hyrule long past, the eldest son of Lord Peregrine Bosphoramus of Crenel Mountain was called Lord Rhoam. He would wed Princess Zelda when he was six-and-twenty, then upon her ascension to the throne become King Consort.

A very popular tale went that Lord Rhoam had been riding in the gardens and saw Princess Zelda playing the harp on a bench. He had fallen in love with the grace and delicacy of her slim fingers plucking the strings, her flaxen hair gleaming like a sheet of silk down her back. She in turn had been smitten at first sight of the strapping hunter with raven hair.

The truth was that Rhoam had asked to court her in a letter, as was proper. They had exchanged letters for a time, and she invited him to tea, morning rides, luncheons, and other appropriate activities--all with chaperones, and all ending at an hour well before sunset. Still, he recalled quite clearly the feeling that persisted throughout those effortless days of his youth. Not only was he in love with the Crown Princess and she with him, but the thought that anything should be out of his reach was quite unfathomable. That was how Rhoam had a mountain named after him.

He thought of nothing besides how happy he was as a parade was arranged to announce their engagement. All of the noble families were invited. Sir Link's father had not been one of them, having become a knight of merit, not of blood, though he had been present that day.

Leandre had been a mere man-at-arms for one of the minor lords. When an assassin stole through the crowd, Leandre followed in order to defend his Princess and Lord Rhoam with much injury to himself--an arrow to the shoulder which everyone feared would take his sword arm.

In gratitude, Zelda had insisted upon granting Leandre a knighthood. The man's only request for his fief was that the land be good and bountiful, the better to serve his country. So Link's father had charmed everyone at court with his modesty, and became Sir Leandre of a small fief near the Mabe Prairie on the River Hylia.

Sir Leandre the Valiant, how old had he been at that time? Perhaps he had been married already, but young Link was certainly was not yet born. Sir Leandre had been lord of Mabe Village for at least a decade, conducting his affairs honorably and well, before his son drew any notice at court. It was more the Queen's notice than anything, but she was scrupulous about showing her gratitude for the man who saved her life. She established a mentorship with his lady-wife Ava, teaching her not only how to manage the business of an entire town rather than a single household, but the finer points of court etiquette. And they were great friends from then on.

So when Queen Zelda came from Mabton with stories of Leandre and Ava's son besting grown men in combat, Rhoam dismissed it as parental embellishment, for did they not do the same for Princess Zelda?

"But Rhoam!" she said with both fondness and exasperation. "I saw him myself. I tell you, Ava's boy may be the Hero of Legend."

"Everyone says their son may be the Hero of Legend, dear."

"But it is _my_ family's business to know when it may be said in truth." There was a surety in her green eyes which unsettled him, and a determination which she usually only reserved for very difficult issues. "Why else would little Link be born so near to Zelda?"

"I daresay there were many children born within a few years of Zelda, and a few boys who were born within the castle."

"I meant not the _time_ , love, nor the distance, but that his father of common birth rose up to save me. Such is how the Hero traditionally appears--but as Sir Leandre has been weakened in his sword arm and I have had no premonitions, it must be our children who are fated to stand against Calamity Ganon. I told Lady Impa, and she told her elders in turn, and they all agreed with me. Thus I will begin Zelda's spiritual tutelage in earnest when she turns eight."

"Very well, dear," he said. Though it discomforted Rhoam to think that his toddler would grow up face an age-old threat to the entire kingdom, it was the Queen's business, not his, and he was content to let her go about it herself.

Perhaps this was his first mistake.

\- - -

Squire Link had a heart as golden as his hair, that much could be seen, and like his father aided all manner of folk with kindness and humility. At home, he pulled the other children of Mabe Village from briars and wells. He was a remarkable rider for his age, Rhoam did notice, with a gentle hand that guided shy horses though crowded squares without incident.

At seven, Link had begun hounding his father to begin training and was only delayed by the fact that he would not be eligible for a knighthood until he had at least come of age. Therefore he had begun his studies at eight as was traditional. Three years young Link spent as a page in court, ending with a pilgrimage to the Spring of Courage with his father, who became his knightmaster. Three years he spent as a squire, and they had likewise visited the Spring of Power.

But it was at twelve that Link stepped foot into legend according to the eyes of the kingdom. For when he was a new-minted squire, he was separated from his father in the woodland region during a hunt, and Leandre found him lying senseless by the resting place of the Master Sword. The weight of belief fell onto the entire realm nearly overnight. It was no matter that Squire Link did not succeed, but that he, a stripling, had not only found his way though a cursed wood, but he lived where most grown men had died.

Squire Link did not speak of the dreams that plagued him during his convalescence--dreams that made him toss and turn and speak of strange things, which made his lady mother worry at his bedside. Rhoam had come to inquire of the boy's health, leaving Zelda at the castle, and by chance came to the door before Ava left. She was weeping, "How I wish the Queen was here!" and Rhoam had to make a quiet exit.

It so happened that on the third day of Rhoam's visit, he entered to find Link sitting up and alert.

"Your Majesty!" he said, trying to bow but realising he was still in bed.

"No need for etiquette, lad. I know you have been ill." He clapped him on the shoulder and sent a servant to fetch Link's parents. "You gave everyone a great fright."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

"May I ask what happened? Your father found you by the Master Sword--did you try drawing it, perchance?"

"Yes... and..." Link thought for a moment. "I nearly did it, if not for someone saying that..."

"Link!"

Ava and Leandre came into the room, with young Arryl at her mother's hip. Neither her daughter nor the presence of the king deterred the lady from rushing to her son's side, clutching him tightly and showering him with kisses so the golden hair she had given to Link fell around his face.

"Let him breathe, Ava," Leandre said, but he smiled and waited till his wife withdrew of her own accord. "Link, what happened when you drew the sword?"

According to Link, a very old man had bid him stop. "Thine heart is true," said this elder, "But the rest is too young yet. Prepare thyself well in the time to come, for upon the next trial I shall not stay thy hand." He had not felt anything till he let go of the sword, and then a rush of agony overcame him so he cried out and fell where he stood.

"I heard your cry," Leandre said. "But I took only a few moments to find you and there was no sign of anyone, least of all an old man. Perhaps it was a dream."

Link looked at his hands as if they had been wounded, but there was no fresh cut or scar on them.

"Speaking of your dreams," Ava said. "When you lay here, you spoke in your sleep. What did you dream of, darling?"

"I..." Link shut his eyes in deep thought. "I don't remember."

"Do try to remember, Link," she urged him. "They may be important." She looked to Rhoam as if he had any answers, and he could not bring himself to say that all knowledge of strange dreams and omens had been taken to the grave with his Queen, as she had died before Princess Zelda's training could begin.

So he nodded instead and said, "You may send a message with anything you recall directly to me."

Perhaps this was his second mistake, asking the wrong child about dreams.

For when Rhoam was six-and-twenty, he had been one out of dozens--even hundreds of suitors, possibly. He saw his Zelda from about five tables away with her cousins and ladies-in-waiting, laughing wildly at some jest, and this to him was more beautiful than her singing. Awestruck, he attempted to ask her to dance, but the droves of other young men who also had the same idea prevented him. The only reason he sent her a letter afterwards was because he would hate himself if he did not act on his feelings. Even if she discarded it without a glance, at least he would have tried.

Imagine his astonishment when he received a response, and moreover she did recall him. She asked him if he would come to court and take a walk with her in the garden, and he could not ride there fast enough.

"Why me?" Rhoam had asked on that fateful day. "I couldn't even speak to you, the crowd was so thick."

She smiled. "Two of my ladies-in-waiting are Sheikah; it matters not to them how thick crowds are. They were suspicious of the great raven-haired man following me about--" Rhoam hoped he did not flush with embarrassment at that, "But I saw no ill will in your heart. I hear you enjoy riding, Lord Rhoam. Tell me of the black steed you ride--is it true that he is of Gerudo stock?"

He spoke at length about Rook, and of horsemanship in general, and gradually of all the places he had been to and the people he had met. When they had finished a circuit around the gardens Zelda decided she wished to meet such a favoured horse, and they turned to the stables. To Rhoam's dismay, Rook was much less forthcoming--he munched on his hay without a glance towards their new companion, and as the trip to the stables had not been planned, his pockets were empty of treats. Then Zelda brought out an apple from her sleeve and Rhoam barely saw that the color was red before his greedy horse snapped it up.

"I had an inkling that apples would be important today," she said, laughing at Rook's eagerness.

"But when did you have time to fetch one?"

"This morning," she said. "I dreamt that I took an apple from the kitchen, and how glad I am to have fulfilled it! Not often are my dreams so simple and harmless to achieve." She laughed as she stroked Rook's forelock, and it was such an enchanting sound that Rhoam laughed with her, forgetting that this was not a normal lady he spoke to but someone with the blood of the Goddess Hylia.

He had only asked Link the one time about his dreams without following through on the request. Never had Rhoam asked their daughter what her nightmares were about, assuming they were distorted memories of her mother, and quite frankly his own grief was too fresh for him to speak of it without a good night's rest. Suppose Zelda's dreams had been of the future all along?

It was too late to ask her now.

\- - -

Link was hesitant to speak of his failed attempt to draw the Sword to anyone besides his family, and there was no letter with any mention of dreams, so Rhoam put the matter aside. Word got out anyway and the rest of Link's squirehood was spent under the anxious eyes of the entire kingdom. Nearly a sixmonth before his coming of age, an outpour of nobles arrived at court to snatch a glimpse of the young knight. And a great crowd of people gathered in the surrounding villages for miles off without any prompt from the Crown.

It was agreed that as soon as Link was dubbed, they would stay only long enough to take well-rested horses and ride to the Woodland Realm, specifically to avoid the crowd. Rhoam had allowed the feast to start without them as he assumed everyone would wait for their return, but to his surprise many of the courtiers declared they would follow after a brief supper. Having heard that Link was to attempt drawing the Master Sword once more, none wanted to miss it, and no words from their King could sway them.

The moment Rhoam returned to the stables, he said, "Ride fast, Sir Link! The entire blasted court will follow at our heels as soon as they're finished eating."

Sirs Link and Leandre both rolled their eyes and mounted their steeds at once. They ate sparing rations of bread and cheese in the saddle at a walk, then urged their horses into a brisk canter for about half an hour to gain way on the others.

It was dusk by the time they reached Korok Forest. Sir Link requested that he go on alone to the Master Sword, which was granted as he had already found his way through by chance three years prior. He did not forbid people outright from following him, but the wood seemed particularly unwelcoming at night, and the few who attempted to steal in after Link ran back in fear after only a few minutes. Rhoam and Sir Leandre waited as he vanished into the greenwood with a single torch. If several hours had passed without word, they--and only they--would search for him.

Leandre worried. He was a fine knight and teacher on all accounts and had trained his son to the best of his ability, but he was still a father, and the mysterious voice Link spoke of had come back to haunt him.

"Upon the next trial I shall not stay thy hand," Leandre muttered, pacing. "When was the last time a child tried to draw the Master Sword? Was he spared because of his youth alone? Of course I think he is worthy--but is that truth or do my father's eyes deceive me?"

When Sir Link returned, alive and unharmed, there was a silence. He still resembled his father with golden instead of brown hair, but while his appearance had not changed in the slightest, his bearing had. His eyes no longer had the sparkle of youth and Rhoam was chilled to see it. For the look on Sir Link's face was the same that the Queen had when she spoke of Calamity Ganon, or Hylia, or anything beyond the ken of normal folk.

The people only saw the Master Sword glinting on his back, and they spoke first.

"Our hero!" they cried. And then: "The Hero! The Hero Reborn!"

Maidens swooned, youths brandished swords, minstrels armed with parchment and quill scribbled every detail. Rhoam found himself reminded of his wife's coronation. And as easily as he accepted the title of King Consort, he found himself agreeing with his subjects.

So with ribbons streaming and bells ringing and flowers strewn on the ground, they laid a doom upon that poor boy's shoulders. The ignorance--to call someone a hero before they ever saw battle! Rhoam himself had forgotten in the long time of peace that there could be no heroes without a foe to vanquish.

That was certainly a mistake, but whether first or third was unclear.

\- - -

Contrary to what the court believed, Rhoam adored his daughter. But the fact was, where Sir Link was the ideal knight and did as his superiors told unless there was a matter of most urgency, Zelda was headstrong--at times extremely so. It was the Queen with her wisdom and grace and good humour who had the slightest hope of containing her daughter's wild energy, a hope which had died with her. Zelda was certainly smart, excelling in her studies, never forgetting the names of anyone at court, and devouring books as if they were fruitcake, but to Rhoam's dismay this did not make her as good a conversationalist as one might have hoped.

Zelda was as likely to inquire about the usual topics as she was to hold a conversation beginning with: "Your Majesty King Dorephan, a pleasure to see you again, but I must beg you to indulge my curiosity a moment. For I have heard that Zora men do not shake hands as Hylians do because their skin will scrape like sandpaper if one brushes against it the wrong way, and as the highest authority on Zora culture, I would like to know if that is true."

King Dorephan laughed and spoke briefly. Rhoam was already wading through the crowd of courtiers to apologise and give a stern admonishment to his daughter of three-and-ten.

"But Father!" Zelda said. "His Majesty told me that it was _true_ \--and yet none of my tutors could confirm this fact when I asked them! I suspect it is because they are Hylian and not Zora--but anyway, I have made an important discovery in terms of cross-racial etiquette--!"

"That is beside the point! Questions such as those are best asked in letters, not in court." And Zelda babbled about how she had wanted to ask if she could shake hands with King Dorephan--"With my gloves on! I had no intention of injuring myself, Father! And anyway, I need my hands to write!"--an action which people could hardly attempt in written correspondence, but Rhoam put his foot down.

Chieftess Urbosa found Zelda's questions delightful, as well as Rhoam's constant apologies to courtiers.

Zelda was fifteen when Sir Link drew the Master Sword, and where his life had progressed neatly along the tale of the Hero of Legend, the Princess did nothing neatly. She grew from an odd yet studious girl into a relentlessly inquisitive young lady with preposterous fancies. Zelda wished to study the Guardians and ancient shrines scattered across Hyrule, and Rhoam had learned that if he would not allow it, Chieftess Urbosa certainly would. Who else could Rhoam trust with his daughter's safety than the youth so obviously destined to be her counterpart?

Very early in Sir Link's appointment, Rhoam had tasked him to follow the morning ride he shared with Zelda.

Rhoam's one concession to Zelda which was freely given was allowing her to wear breeches and sit astride, since--as she pointed out--a sidesaddle and skirts would prevent her from sitting a gallop, which might be necessary to flee pursuers. He had since learned that while that was technically true, it also allowed Zelda to forego the reins and write in the small memorandum she used for keeping notes, as well as direct her horse off the trail to pursue some plant or insect she spotted, usually without telling Rhoam first.

After half an hour of unpleasant silence, Rhoam learned that she would not extend the courtesy to her newly appointed knight, either. Something flitted between the bushes and caught her sullen eye, and before anyone realised what was happening, Zelda turned her horse off the trail to follow the creature.

"Zelda!" Rhoam shouted, pulling up his own mount. "Come back here at once!"

"In a moment, Father!"

Behind him, the sound of hoofbeats alerted him to the third rider in their company. Where Rhoam had been calling after Zelda to no avail, Sir Link simply turned his chestnut mare and rode after the princess to collect her. Notably, Link did not try to argue but appealed to her horse instead, clucking to it and essentially herding the beast back to Rhoam's side. Zelda argued anyway, but it was effective--she was back on the trail and the white stallion refused to break away from their herd of three.

The rest of the ride passed in even more uncomfortable silence.

Back at the stables, Zelda dismissed Sir Link with an order to put the horses away and then turned on Rhoam, bristling.

"Now I see why you've appointed him, Father," she said, as if he had committed the gravest injustice in the world.

"I have made no secret of it, Zelda. Your safety is of my utmost concern--"

"But he's not _defending_ me from anything! He is _minding_ me as if I was a child!"

Her fifteenth birthday had barely passed. "But you are a child, Zelda."

"Father!"

Zelda stamped a foot and all but ran to her chambers in a whirl of golden hair and indignance. In such a state, she could hardly be bothered to change into skirts nor take the less-traveled corridors back to her chambers, so there would be much grumbling from the courtiers at the sight of their Crown Princess in trousers. But even so, the ride had turned out as well as anyone could hope.

On his way out the King caught sight of Sir Link, grooming Zelda's horse. The white stallion was particular about his feet and often grumbled even under the royal groom's firm hand, but Link's approach of gently patting the neck and flank to soothe him seemed to work well.

Rhoam set a hand on the young knight's shoulder. "I suppose you heard the argument."

Sir Link said something polite and noncommittal as he returned to his task.

"I assure you that it is no matter, Sir Link. My daughter is quite temperamental, but it is for this very reason that I would prefer you continue your appointment as her personal guard."

This was met with an agreement and a bow, as much as Sir Link could do so in the confines of a horse stall.

Rhoam set about removing the tack from his own horse as Link began grooming his own.

"You know, Sir Link, I was once a well-versed horseman myself," he commented. "I no longer have the time as King Regent, and of course my middling age has limited my skills--but when I was still at the seat of Crenel Mountain, my old groom was my favourite teacher. He said one could tell much about a rider from the horses they rode. For example..." Looking at Link's mare, he stretched out his hand and was quite pleased at how she pushed her nose into his palm, "Your mare appears no different from any other horse in the realm, but see how uncommonly well-behaved she is! Not a hot-blooded sort, but nor is she stubborn and unresponsive. Now _that_ is good breeding, Sir Link, never mind the looks."

He thumped his own steed on the neck, a dray-horse of blue roan, who gave a good-natured snort. "I beg your pardon, Donjon, but I must speak of the black stallion I rode in my youth. What a horse he was--a destrier with a fire in his eye! I called him Rook, for it was rare that he kept more than one foot on the ground. If his pedigree had not been detailed thoroughly, one would think old Rook had Gerudo blood." He sighed fondly. "But now I ride Donjon here. My boon companion Sir Heming was the rider of this steed, but gifted him to me upon retirement. In our old age, we suit each other well, not the least because he is an animal fit to bear a man of my more robust stature." He glanced over to see if Sir Link would react at the self-deprecating joke, and smiled when the young knight coughed and nodded reluctantly.

"As for Zelda's horse..." Rhoam did not try to pet the white stallion. "You must wonder why, if I have demonstrated such expertise in matters of horseflesh, I allow Princess Zelda to ride this beast. He is ungelded, hot-blooded, and strong--quite a bad combination for any rider, let alone the only heir to the Crown whose safety should be paramount. What say you, Sir Link?"

Sir Link paused, then agreed.

"According to tradition, the Queen and her successors _must_ have a white horse of the royal Hyrulean line. This would be of little consequence for ceremonial rides, even moreso if it was a mare. But the royal sires are not gelded barring some irreconcilable flaw, and there happened to be no suitable mares of the royal stock, and his temperament, with extra handling from the grooms, is good enough that he has never bitten or thrown my daughter." Rhoam paused, then admitted with more than some bitterness, "Yet sometimes I wish he _would_ do something, if only because it would show those courtiers that Zelda must choose a safer mount. Those nobles do not ride enough to see how dangerous their traditions truly are! They care only of appearances, never mind that most of her riding is done away from public view. But such is the way of things. As King Regent, not of the bloodline of Hylia myself, I have limited sway--so as a father, I watch and worry while an archaic rule set by Zelda's ancestors puts her at risk."

He hadn't spoken so much in a long time--not of his own fears, at least. Rhoam gave Donjon a final pat on the neck before leaving the stall. "Forgive an old man for his long-windedness. You may go about your affairs now that the horses are settled. Fare well, Sir Link."

It had been decades since Rhoam had died, and his mistakes were only getting clearer and clearer. Such was the agony of lingering in death.

\- - -

At first, Rhoam thought nothing of Zelda going to visit Chieftess Urbosa. She had regular visits every few weeks with her mother's closest friend, divided between Gerudo Town and Hyrule Castle, and that was before having Sir Link as her guard. Admittedly, this was because the Gerudo themselves were quite accomplished warriors and sent an escort when Zelda travelled to the desert, but there was no harm in having more protection. In fact Zelda was quite cordial for once, introducing Link to the soldier Dayah without an ounce of annoyance, and Rhoam waved them off with relief that things were going so smoothly.

That was until he remembered that Gerudo Town did not allow men within its walls and Zelda had counted on him forgetting to send a request for a special pardon of Zelda's official guard. He woke the next morning beside himself with anxiety, and managed to soothe himself with the fact that even should Sir Link be detained outside the walls, the Gerudo had done perfectly well defending Zelda before. Yet he still wrote the letter and sent a messenger to Chieftess Urbosa at once.

When Zelda returned, followed quite closely by said knight, she surprised Rhoam by running to him and throwing her arms around his waist. "Father!"

"Zelda! Whatever happened, my dear?"

The tale came out of Yiga assassins ambushing her while dressed as Gerudo civilians, causing such chaos that the guards were as busy fighting them as guarding the princess, and Zelda's distress quickly became his own.

"But Sir Link was waiting just outside the walls, and he saved me from the last three of them!"

He embraced his daughter as she clung to him, quivering with fear. He was reminded of when she would waken from nightmares after her mother died--for as brave a front as she put up at the funeral, she was only seven years old. He realised how large of a distance had grown between them, fed by arguments about rules which Zelda hated, and duty trampling roughshod over parenthood. How much he had missed something as simple as his daughter showing affection after she had not done it for months--no, nearly a year.

"Sir Link," he said, his own eyes welling up, "You have been tested and proven exceedingly worthy of not only your title, but the Master Sword as well. I cannot thank you enough."

"Father, I know I have been contrary regarding a personal guard--but I must commend both Sir Link's diligence and your foresight. You were right--and I was never more afraid in my life!" She buried her face in his shoulder.

"Hush, my dear," he said, for he could not bear to gloat over being _right_ when his greatest fear as both a father and King had just come to fruition. "All is well now, you see?"

And for a time, things truly did go well, for Zelda became much more agreeable, no longer shirking or complaining about her guard. While her powers seemed no nearer to being proven, she was still praying diligently to the Goddess, and she had survived her first assassination attempt, so Rhoam was patient. He allowed her to spend as much time as she liked wandering Hyrule to find shrines and old ruins.

In life, he had seen that as a mistake, as indulgence which delayed the Princess' spiritual growth.

In death, he knows far better.

\- - -

Upon Zelda's sixteenth nameday, people began to make pointed comments on how the princess looked so very much like her mother, and wasn't she a great beauty and wasn't it about time Zelda was presented to court?

The hand of the Crown Princess was a very tempting boon, not least because it was true that Queen and Princess resembled each other. Both slender and golden-haired, with emerald eyes and alabaster skin. Rhoam braced himself for a wave of suitors, the majority of which he would have to refuse without souring relations between their families and the Crown. However, Zelda took care of them herself. When the young Lord Ingers of Akkala approached her during the ball, he presented to her an extremely predictable bouquet of Silent Princesses. Zelda gasped with delight, then surprised everyone by snatching it from her would-be-suitor's hand.

"Sir Link!" she said to the knight, suitably attired in his Royal Guard surcoat. "Would you mind putting these in water?" Sir Link nodded and, for lack of anywhere else, set the bouquet in a vase already holding several roses.

Zelda then accepted the bewildered suitor's request for a dance, the entire time holding a perfectly amiable yet mostly one-sided discussion theorising on how the Silent Princess might be so difficult to domesticate because they were _double_ hypogeal lilies rather than simple hypogeal. Lord Ingers left Zelda's side as soon as the dance was finished.

"Good!" Purah said from beside Rhoam, making him jump. "I never liked him anyway."

"Lord Ingres was perhaps not the most ideal match," Rhoam admitted. "If he found himself unable to converse with my daughter when she was attempting to socialise, he certainly wouldn't stand for her difficult moods."

The scientist cackled. "Who said she was attempting to socialise?"

He thought, at the time, it meant that Zelda had simply been too distracted by her own whims to have a normal conversation. It took several years after Rhoam's death for him to realise that this was a very roundabout Sheikah manner of making him see that his daughter had deterred a suitor in a way that made it seem like it was his idea to leave rather than her own reluctance, therefore averting a proposal while also avoiding scandal. In fact, this wouldn't even upset Lord Ingres's family, which was distant yet suitably loyal. It really was quite brilliant.

Rhoam had been distracted by the fact that in addition to suitors, there were rumors about where Princess Zelda's heart lay, one of the most popular candidates being her appointed knight. He had dismissed it entirely, for the following reasons.

The first was that the silly romantic whims flitting about court often resolved themselves overnight. Zelda had been paired with nearly everyone at court from benignly misguided (Princess Mipha) to the puzzling (Champion Revali). Sir Link was merely one of a list of candidates, and in fact there was a long-running fancy of a romance between the Goddess-blood Princess and the Hero of Hyrule. If the rumours persisted, it was not because of the princess or knight themselves but the convenience of having two living people to stand in for the figures of legend, as if they were players on a stage.

A pretty tale for minstrels, to be sure--the ballad with Rhoam meeting Zelda in the garden had been one of those. And despite the glaring inaccuracies, he never failed to grow misty-eyed listening to it.

After some prying, he found that the source of many rumors concerning Zelda's heart had come from a minstrel of sorts--the court poet Lord Mulber, a Sheikah who was embarrassingly smitten and jealous of any young man who was in the same room as the princess. At the ball, Lord Mulber had sat in the corner playing his lyre and attempting to sing pleasant ballads without sounding angry. Both his harp and his voice pitched sour every time Lord Ingers and Zelda drew near.

The second reason Rhoam dismissed the rumours of Zelda and her appointed knight was because Rhoam could not believe his own daughter, brilliant and petulant at turns, could fall in love with someone who she once avoided to the point of rudeness. And while it was true that Sir Link's feelings were unknown on the matter, it was also true that silence was often the most polite response on the days when Zelda's more contrary nature was showing--and the young knight was, to be delicate, exceptionally courteous.

To be undelicate, Rhoam had never seen them speak to each other even after she grew warmer. Certainly Zelda spoke _at_ Sir Link, chattering away at whatever idea had taken her mind, but Rhoam knew for a fact that Zelda would and often did speak to her horse, the potted flowers in her study, and her books. Sir Link was simply one of the rare Hylians who let her speak without a single interruption, and that made him an ideal conversationalist in Zelda's eyes.

After Lord Ingres had all but run from the Princess, Zelda called a servant for another vase. Sir Link--with surprising gentleness--withdrew the rare flowers from their impromptu housing and held them out to Zelda. She gently examined them, stroking their petals and commenting on what perfect specimens they were. "Perhaps they might serve in an experiment for root propagation, or do lilies propagate solely from bulbs?" Then she cupped her white-gloved hands around the ribbons tying the flowers together, just above Sir Link's own heavier dress gauntlets. A trickle of water escaped the flowers as she lifted them away.

Servants and pages ran to clean the mess before anyone slipped--or worse, had their silk finery ruined. Impa called for the Princess to please be mindful of the water she was dripping all over the floor. Purah and Chieftess Urbosa laughed rather too loudly at the spectacle. When someone did slip, Princess Mipha felt obligated to examine the courtier for injury, and Champions Revali and Daruk looked with disdain and confusion respectively at all the fuss being made over a bit of water.

Being dead, Rhoam saw through the chaos of his memory with fresh eyes. While taking the bouquet, both of Zelda's hands had brushed against Sir Link's own; perhaps intentionally, perhaps not. They gazed at each other across the flowers with a look that spoke more than Zelda's fancies or Link's troubled dreams. The Princess did not resemble her Queen mother so much when she was solemn, and while there was youthful longing in the gaze they shared, there was also a painful awareness of the divide between their stations. 

Zelda turned away without smiling and called somewhat sharply, "Would someone hand me an empty vase, _please!_ " Sir Link dropped his gaze to the floor out of seeming modesty, and his hands went behind his back in parade rest, but perhaps he had been hiding pain rather than deferring to his mistress. It was exactly the sort of moment a poet with envy-sharpened eyes might notice. And when Rhoam looked to the musician's corner he saw Lord Mulber glaring daggers at Sir Link while the harp lay in his lap, silent and forgotten.

It was tragic, Rhoam admitted to himself, yet he could not bring himself to say it was a mistake. Anyway, it was not his.

\- - -

It had taken Zelda several days longer to return after what had seemed to be a routine collection of Guardian parts and notes, and she remained at the castle longer than usual as the horses were exhausted and easily frightened. Sir Link had taken injuries, and though they were minor in themselves, there was talk of how Link had brought back the horn of a silver Lynel for the castle apothecary to mix into elixirs. And upon visiting the wizened old lady, she also confirmed that Sir Link had brought back numerous parts from creatures of great strength.

With dread Rhoam realized that this meant there were more monsters, and they were getting more ferocious by the day. His wife had been right, no matter how much he blinkered his eyes to the truth all those years ago.

And now there was no Queen to guide Zelda's spiritual journey. Rhoam could not indulge his daughter any longer. Never mind that he only had the barest knowledge of what the princesses and queens should do, he had been far too lenient. He strode out onto the wall where Zelda observed experiments with Guardians, and he minded not the courtiers about them or the commotion below.

"Zelda!" he called sharply. "What are you doing?"

Zelda had been... argumentative that day. Rhoam had thought nothing of it as he laid down his command, forbidding her from studying the Guardians and demanding she pray instead.

Sir Link had knelt and bowed his head specifically so his face was not showing. At first Rhoam had thought the boy, caught in-between his liege lord and the princess he was sworn to protect, had chosen the politest way of escaping notice without an actual dismissal. But then, Sir Link had remained behind Zelda, hadn't he? Neither had he greeted Rhoam as "Your Majesty."

It was some ninety years after his death that Rhoam realised Sir Link had made a choice. He had chosen his Princess over the King, and he had been right.

_What a fool I was._

\- - -

Rhoam had little experience as a soldier, but of hunting and woodcraft he knew plenty. When the monsters came to swarm the castle, he knew the town was gone, but he stood his ground. He took up his bow and loosed arrow after arrow until all of them were spent, and when that was done he picked up an axe and continued. Who struck the fatal blow which killed him, Rhoam did not know. His last thoughts were of Zelda, slim and young and fair, and striving desperately for a goal neither of them had any knowledge of, and how they had parted on such terrible terms without even saying farewell.

As the last of his blood ebbed out onto the floor, Rhoam wished with all his heart that he could know of Zelda's whereabouts. He would accept it if Zelda hated him and cursed his name even if it were to the end of her days, if only he knew she was alive.

The red, blinding pain softened as he separated from his body, and he felt rather than saw a glowing light somewhere in the world.

Thinking it was his Queen, he followed it as a lantern in the dark. But instead of finding himself in the Golden Realm, he was in a field--he knew not where--covered in the wreckage of Guardians. He saw his daughter, still clad in her now torn and muddied white prayer gown. Rhoam could assure himself that no harm had come to Zelda, but he could not tell if the dark patches on Sir Link's tunic were as harmless as dirt or rain. The young knight lay in Zelda's lap. The Master Sword lay next to them, dented and chipped.

"Link!" she implored. "Get up!"

Sir Link was deathly pale. He attempted to rise as she commanded him, but his eyes closed and he fell back. He looked more a boy than ever, cradled in Zelda's arms.

Back when Zelda was being rude, she had made a point to call the knight Sir only. When she had grown past that, Rhoam had been too relieved to question it further and paid no more attention to them, instead devoting all of his attention to the rumors which could grow into treason, and the encroaching doom of his kingdom.

If Zelda was no longer being impolite but familiar, if she held Sir Link close when they were alone, and she wept over him as she had not done even for her mother--

Well.

However many mistakes he had made, it was certain that many of them could be traced to the simple fact that he had forgotten how Zelda was not only a princess, but his daughter. A young girl with thoughts and desires and insecurities, which made her no different than any other maiden in Hyrule, though her responsibilities were greater.

Zelda started as if at some sound, which made Rhoam start. Her wide green eyes darted about for any sign of a foe approaching, then settled upon the Master Sword, still clutched in Sir Link's grip. Rhoam saw his daughter's face shift as if listening to something which he, for whatever reason, was not privy to.

"He can still be saved?" she asked.

"Princess!" A pair of Sheikah came to Zelda, one being none other than Lord Mulber while the other was Sir Rue.

She demanded they make haste with Sir Link to the Shrine of Resurrection--again forgetting the knight's title. Lord Mulber frowned at that and said, "Only one of us need carry _Sir_ Link, your Highness." Zelda raised a brow. "I will escort you to Kakariko."

Zelda shook her head. "No, Lord Mulber--you must defend Sir Rue on the way to the shrine."

"But Princess--"

"My powers have awakened," she interrupted him. "And the only one I would have guard me is in your hands. Make haste to the Shrine of Resurrection, both of you--before Link pays the dearest price for my defense."

Sir Rue was carrying him, and Rhoam was painfully reminded that Sir Link had yet to reach his full height. "What of the Master Sword, your Highness?" 

"I will take the sword back to the Great Forest to await for its master's return."

She had buckled the sheath over her shoulder at the tightest she could manage, but as it was still loose on her slim shoulders she held the strap to keep it from falling off. Turning north, Zelda nearly took a step forward before she turned back and went to Sir Link. She set a hand on his neck, testing his pulse. Her mouth trembled and her face grew pale as if she might cry again. But she did not cry; nor did she speak. Instead she brushed Sir Link's tawny hair out of his face--as if looking presentable was the most pressing matter at hand--before turning back to Kakariko and marching on.

Lord Mulber delayed as Sir Rue walked west, looking from the retreating princess' back to the unconscious knight. Rhoam thought he might go after Zelda anyway, and nearly urged him to follow orders before recalling he was dead and none could see or hear him now. But when Sir Rue called, Lord Mulber finally turned and followed his tribesman west.

\- - -

As the years passed, no Gerudo or Rito or Goron sought to fill the vacuum of power that Rhoam's death and Zelda's absence created. Not even King Dorephan made any move to take Hyrule--though all the gods knew he had the most right to take Rhoam's kingdom in retaliation for Princess Mipha's untimely and horrifying death.

Rhoam saw unspeakable pain wracking the country; he saw trade splintered without Hyrule's safe roads. He saw the rulers of other peoples retreat only to mind their own affairs, cautious of outsiders but not generally hostile. No Hylian nobles turned their eyes to the empty throne. The commoners trickled out of the country seeking refuge in other lands from Labrynna to Holodrum.

So the rumours of treason were unfounded.

Sir Leandre had fought and died in battle as his son had, valiantly, allowing his wife and daughter to flee the sack of Mabe Village. Rhoam's ties to Sir Link were only through Zelda, who had not met Link's family. It was boon and curse both; he hoped for their survival, yet was too much of a coward to test the limits of his spirit's influence and make certain of their fate, good or ill. By the time he gathered his courage and sought out the Hero's mother and sister, it had been years. He could find neither Lady Ava nor little Arryl among the scattered, beaten-down Hylians or the ex-patriates who used to be his subjects.

The rain and shifting banks of the River Hylia drowned Mabe Village, transforming it into a wetland which people named the Bottomless Swamp. Good and bountiful it had been; but without the careful tending of Leandre's people, the land served no one but for the creatures who dwelt in its muddy depths.

So the Hero of Hyrule had no kith, no kin, and no home awaiting his return. The princess was keeping Calamity Ganon at bay, their former allies were dead or elderly, all scattered far and wide; the only face Sir Link would see upon awakening was the ghost of the king he once served, who had repaid loyal service with loss and more loss.

\- - -

When Rhoam hears his daughter's voice for the first time in nearly a century, he starts. She addresses her knight, which must mean he is near to waking. Again and again she says his name, gently, but persistent. The shrine does not open the first day, nor the second, and Rhoam wonders if he may do anything himself. He recalls that living Hylians will need food, and while there are apples and mushrooms aplenty, he decides it would be best to have them near the shrine in case Sir Link is famished.

Handling objects is a bit difficult as a spirit, but after many attempts, he manages to collect wood for a fire, skewer an apple with a strong branch, and bake it over the fire as he had when he was a young man on his hunts.

The boy is visibly weakened from his time in the shrine. He picks up a tree branch as makeshift weapon and while there are glimmers of the young knight he once was, he tires far too easily. Nor do his confused blue eyes show any sort of recognition when he stumbles across Rhoam at his fire. Sir Link approaches without a bow, a kneel, or any sort of courtesy--naught but relief at the sight of another being.

"Hey, old man," Sir Link greets him, as if he were not the appointed knight of the princess speaking to his liege lord. "You're the first person I've seen here since I woke up. Who are you? Where are we?"

He will not needle the poor boy; and anyway Rhoam feels less than adequate as a king. But as a poor woodsman, he may pass. When he looks down, his clothes are already worn and simple rather than the robes he had died in so long ago, and he wonders if it was his doing or that of Sir Link, or even of Hylia herself. But there is no time to spare; Zelda is still fighting Ganon. So Rhoam keeps his introduction as simple as his raiment, foregoing his name and conversing casually, as if he were speaking with the son of a dear friend.

It goes fairly well until without so much as a "do you mind," Sir Link takes the baked apple at the fire.

There is no malice in Sir Link's wide blue eyes; true, he had not asked permission, but nor had he the manner of a true thief. He had taken the woodcutter guise entirely as truth. Could Rhoam blame him for forgetting courtesy when he did not even recall who he was? When Rhoam was alive, he could have had the boy beheaded for such insolence, but he cannot lay down the law of the king to a boy who believes there is nothing different about them save age.

But this may hinder his quest when he reaches civilization, so Rhoam decides he may still remind Sir Link of manners.

"I beg your pardon! I do believe that is my apple!"

Link jumps a foot in the air--still holding on to the apple--and Rhoam forgets that he is a dead king and he laughs. Ah, it is sweet to laugh; but he sobers quickly whenever he turns about, for Hyrule Castle is ever in the distance, glowing a sinister red. Zelda is there, awaiting aid. She has been waiting for a century.

So he trains the boy, teaching him woodcraft and hunting, warning him of the monsters on the field, but always tempering his impatience with the memories of how it had so burdened Zelda with unhappiness and dread. Rhoam finds a Rito-made paraglider at the Temple of Time, lying at Hylia's feet, and makes sure to let Link know that it is the only way to safely leave the Plateau. Before Rhoam knows it, the boy's skill flourishes and he has visited all four shrines on the Great Plateau. He finally reveals himself as King when he cannot interact with the living world any longer, and explains the truth to Sir Link, and begs him to save his daughter before he becomes incorporeal again.

As Rhoam's business is not yet finished, but most of his power to interact directly with the living has been drained, he watches Sir Link on his journey to the castle. The boy is still kind and determined, but speaks freely to all, from King Dorephan to the herding dogs that frequent the countryside. On occasion, he even needles them in a manner which the rigidly polite and stoic knight of a century past would never have allowed himself, like a--

Well, like a youth not even twenty. And not counting his sleep in the Shrine of Resurrection, that is what he is.

While Rhoam chafes when the boy feels compelled to fulfill nearly every plea for help, he reminds himself that a proper knight aids everyone in need, regardless of status.

The amount of children missing fathers and mothers is enough to break a king's heart. In Kakariko, a young girl mourns her mother in secret. In Tabantha, five Rito children cry in their sleep for their father. Though Rhoam is inordinately glad to realise said father is simply traveling and not dead, he sobers when Vah Medoh shrieks above the village and sends everyone into their homes.

The one true acquisition Sir Link makes on his own behalf besides clothing and food is buying a home in Hateno. It is little better than the woodcutter's hut, and when restored by carpenters can still only be described as comfortable yet small. The boy busies himself with dinner, a venison stew with baked apples. He finishes it normally, but sits at the empty table for a long while, as if waiting for someone to come in. The look of uncertainty on his face--as if not even Link knows what or who it is. Then he puts his head in his arms and weeps.

He writes something on a slip of parchment.

Even his handwriting has changed, Rhoam muses, before he comes to his senses and gives Sir Link some privacy. He knows he should not pry--even though he simply wishes to know what caused such sorrow in a now-cheerful young man, he reminds himself that he can hardly console or guide Sir Link anymore, so it would simply be an intrusion.

\- - -

The greatest burden of Rhoam's life and death melts away when Ganon is defeated and Zelda restored to bodily form, muddy dress and all.

After a speech of congratulation acknowledging him as the Hero of Hyrule, she casts her gaze down and asks shyly, "Do you really remember me?"

A smile grows across Link's face like the sun. He runs forward, sweeping Zelda into an embrace that lifts her off her feet. Such boldness would be impertinent if Rhoam had not seen the great lengths and pains taken beforehand which proved not only Link's love, but how deserving he was of hers.

"Zelda!"

"Link!"

"I'm so glad to see you again!"

A flood of emotion pours forth from both Princess and Knight as the tension and weight of their destined task finally lifts from their shoulders. Without rhyme or reason their emotions shift though the grief of what had been lost and the hope of a peaceful future. Zelda strokes Link's face as he sobs into her shoulder, and then they both hold their sides shaking with laughter as children, and then it is Zelda's turn to cry what seems like a thousand tears at once.

Finally Link whistles to his horse and mounts it, holding a hand out to Zelda. Her dress does not permit sitting astride and she, of course, complains about it. "I haven't ridden side-saddle in so long." She does clasp Link's waist a bit more tightly than necessary.

"The Slate isn't working anymore, so we'll have to go the long way to Hateno."

"Hateno? What's in Hateno?"

"My house--"

"Oh, look!" Link stops his horse at once, but Zelda's cry was of delight. She points to some flowers on the ground. "Link, look! Silent Princesses! There are so many of them!"

"They grow everywhere now," Link says.

"Really?" Zelda gasps. "But they only grow in the--"

She looks back at the ruins of Hyrule Castle, at the unpaved roads they travel, at the long grass swaying in the plains which used to be Castle Town and other villages.

"Well." All the delight goes to grief, and it breaks Rhoam's heart. "It's sad that the reason they're flourishing is because..." She pauses. "I suppose I'm glad that something could not only outlast the Calamity but thrive. And--and I'm glad that--" Despite her words she sounds close to tears again.

"You don't have to be glad right now," Link tells her, gently.

"Surely I've wept enough."

"It's only been a day, Zelda."

"Well..." Zelda leans forward and rested her head against his shoulder. "If you insist." Her tears, if she shed any, were silent this time.

Rhoam's connection to the living world is fading now that his purpose is completed, but he wishes not to part on a somber note. He remains until they speak again.

"You said Hateno, yes? What's in Hateno?"

"I have a house there," Link says, and then the boy who had slain the Calamity grows hesitant all of a sudden. "You can stay... I mean... until we get word to Impa, or as long as you like."

Zelda's ears turn pink when she is embarrassed, which is why she hates being embarrassed. Yet, as colour rises in her cheeks and ears and she chatters something about the flora they pass by, her dress irreparably ruined, Rhoam thinks that he has never seen his daughter lovelier; she is even more of a beauty than her Queen mother.

As Princess Zelda and Sir Link ride southwards to Hateno, he heard harp music faintly from the north, where the gardens used to be. He turns toward them and finds the castle restored. His hair is black again, it is springtime rather than autumn, and he is riding a horse long dead--his favoured black stallion, Rook, majestic and hot-blooded.

"What ho, Rhoam!" calls Sir Heming atop his now-youthful steed Donjon. "You ride the wrong way to the hunt! To me, friend, for the others will not wait!"

But, says the reasonable part of his mind--fond as he was of his Queen, this was not how he met his Zelda.

The unreasonable part of his mind ignores it.

"Wait not for me, Heming!" he cries. "But I will follow once I have found the player of that harp!" So he gives a tap of his heels and leans over his horse's neck. "Gently, Rook," he says, though his horse seemed to need no urging at all.

In no time he is surrounded by hedges and rosebushes and arbors twined thick with vines. A fountain he knew had never been in the gardens greets him, and as he dismounts to walk round it, he sees a golden-haired lady singing as sweetly as the flowers blooming around him, singing the words of his favourite song.

_He met her in the garden, o!_   
_The Lord of Crenel Peak_   
_And knew there was none else for him_   
_Before she e'er did speak--_

The music stops.

"You have been a long time indeed, Rhoam!" comes his Queen's voice, gently teasing. And this is even sweeter than her singing, for it proves without a doubt that she is truly the spirit of his wife, and not a dream. "One hundred years did you linger after death! I half-thought Zelda put _you_ into the Shrine of Resurrection."

He looks down at himself, middle now trim and fit as it was in his youth, and remarks drolly, "But didn't you see how fat I'd gotten?"

She throws back her head with a flash of golden hair and the wild laugh he adored, then she flings her harp down to embrace him. "Tell me, Rhoam: How fares our daughter?"

He thinks of what he had last seen, of the great unknown future stretching out before the young pair. The villages which are not in ruins are few and far between. There are still monsters lingering. Yet there is also freedom from the traditions which had made Zelda so unhappy, and the flowers she loved and studied and feared for now grow healthy and strong throughout Hyrule. She has Impa and Dorephan for guidance and would surely become allies with the new Chieftess of the Gerudo as well as the Rito.

"She has grown into her powers to become wise and strong," he tells her. "There is hardly a kingdom left to rule, but the Calamity has been vanquished, and Sir Link will remain at her side. I think they shall fare well, whatever they do."

"Sir Link?" she asks. "Why Rhoam, do you mean Ava's boy?"

"Yes, dear. You were right; he is the Hero reborn."

"Aren't I always right, my love?" They laugh together and she picks up her harp again as Rhoam sits next to her on the bench.

"Fair Zelda," he asks. "Would you remind me of the second verse?"

"Whatever for? You know it better than I."

"Well, I'd like to sing it with you."

"Then _sing!_ " she cries, laughing even as she plays the next verse. "If you'd only let your heart have its way, you won't sing a wrong word at all."


End file.
